


There Lied the Broken Doctor

by Lu_Dc_221B



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Gen, John Watson Thinks Sherlock Holmes is Dead, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft's Meddling, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 22:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lu_Dc_221B/pseuds/Lu_Dc_221B
Summary: After the Reichenbach Fall Dr. John. H. Watson finds himself lost.The battlefield has disappeared under his feet,and he’s has slowly spiraled down into a depressive state after his lost.This story takes place 2 months after The Reichenbach Fall and tells the story of John and how he tries to cope with it but can’t get over it all, and how The Holmes brothers are doing their best to help from a distance.[ACHAN is set in motion brother.I’m sorry...]—————WARNINGS—————This fanfic contains sensitive topics (suicide talk, depression, drugs, overdose and more)THERE IS MAJOR SPOILERS FROM SEASON 2 EPISODE 3 AND LATER EPISODE. Pls don’t read if you haven’t watched the episodes. It’s just friendly advice.





	There Lied the Broken Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> ^^^^WARNINGS^^^^
> 
> -this fanfic touches on sensitive topics: depression, suicide, alcohol and drugs. Being the main ones.
> 
> If you’re sensitive about these topics I’d advise you not to read this. Just because I know how hard these topics are and I wouldn’t want someone to feel bad because of my work. It’s not why I write.
> 
> -this fanfic is also not Johnlock so far so unless It changes later on this is not a John x Sherlock. (Sorry for anyone who thought this was)
> 
> -I most likely will use swear words at some point so please if you’re offended by that again you are warned.
> 
> 🚨 ALSO MAJOR SPOILER ALERT 🚨
> 
> •the event of the story are happening after season 2 episode 3 :” The Reichbach Fall” and in between it and “the Empty hearse” (season 3 episode 1)
> 
> So if you haven’t seen the episodes yet DONT READ THIS you’ll just spoil yourself and it’s not worth it.

  
Sherlock’s phone vibrated on his little bedside table. He was, surprised to say the least, no one still contacted him on his phone or it had been months since someone tried to. He grunted, not exactly in the mood for news, he had more important things in mind at that moment, but reached for the little device anyway.

As too be expected it was, “Big bro”. Mycroft. He sighed deeply, considering the fact that, he could very well ignore it and stay laying down contemplating the new case he had just been offered instead of giving his brother more attention then he already did just by snapping him out of his dream like trance.

He rubbed his eye, them slowly adjusting to the phone screens glow.  
There was just one message.

[ACHAN is set in motion brother.  
I’m sorry.

-MH]

“Trouble..” He gulped, his face turning sour as if he hard just eaten the driest, tasteless thing and was having it be forced down his throat. He covered his eyes, wanting for once to cuss out a string of words just too relieve himself, from the horrors he had just imagined. With a now shaky breath he took his courage and forced through and answered.

[Please keep him safe Mycroft.

Please.

-SH]

After a short moment of losing his trail of thoughts, he sat his phone back down on the little table and covered his eyes his head resting on his palms and his elbows onto his knees.

“God John..why....Why..”

No one was watching him and he debated wether he would let himself cry. Which...after a while he couldn’t control. He had seen it as a possibility but, he never really wanted to believe it was. It was mind boggling to him “why would John do this?”… He always so headstrong, confident, brilliant, sure not as brilliant as him, but there was something brilliant about Watson, that he couldn’t just ignore.

He struggles with the thought, he really didn’t want to believe it but, since when has Mycroft ever been the laughing type, and for Mr Mycroft Holmes to write “sorry” it must of been bad. Extremely bad.

 

***

  
It was quiet. The windows were shut and no one but him was home; laying on the couch, one arm dangling off the sofa. It had now been two days.

Mrs Hudson couldn’t take it and had went to her kids house for a few weeks, But the Doctor didn’t leave, he couldn’t. He was stuck, he felt as if he had no one. The battleground had just vanished under his feet and he didn’t have a clue where to go and what to do about it.

His friends tried to invite him out but he refused all interactions, he had stopped going to see his therapist as well, the poor man couldn’t bare socializing in any shape or form. Not too mention the press were pushing him and the yard 24/7 trying to milk em for all the info they could get. He couldn’t, he had gone pale, weak, a sickening sight of a poor man slowly letting himself go, not caring for self preservation an health. His hair was unruly, slowly turning greasy from the lack of anything but dry shampoo being used, he didn’t have the courage to go back into that bathroom, use the amenities he had in there. It was like a crime scene to him. Nothing could be touch and he preferred it that way.

He looked scruffy, sick, a young Doctor slowly succumbing from his deep mental wound and treating it with pills, and the one thing he sweared to himself he’d never do. Drugs. He hated himself for it.

But it reminded him of Holmes. The addict that he was. He had become addicted as well, from the relief he got when he did it. Good memories would come back to him and he didn’t have all these, nasty thoughts, nasty..flashbacks.

And so there he laid, slumped on the couch, syringe on the floor. There lied the Broken Doctor, wishing that his nightmare would soon end.

  
***

 

The room was a still image.

The only things in motion were the little specs of dust, barely visible, but were because of the light peering out from the tiny slits that the windows created from not being perfectly closed.

The table in the kitchen hadn’t been touch, Holmes’ containers and Experiments still stood there, collecting dust. The fridge was almost empty, Ironically there was Milk and fingers in the freezer. The only thing he would occasionally snack on, if he even did, was on chips and tea.

The living room was tidy’ish if you consider syringes scattered here and there not a problem, which was tidy enough considering how it could be.

  
***

 

There was a faint knock at the door.  
A tall figure stood behind it and slowly but surely opened it.

The figure stood in the doorway, gently tapping his umbrella, wondering how deep John had gone this time. He walked to the limp body to check his arm and frowned. The dosage we’re getting out of hand. Little puncture marks of the needles littering his arm. No wonder he didn’t go out anymore.

The tall man checked Watson’s pulse, is was somewhat regular but he hated to view that he had. He may not love the doctor but his brother cared deeply about him. “He is family” had his baby brother once said to him over text. And Mycroft decided to respect his brothers choice. He had vowed to look after him after his brother ruthlessly decided to fake his death.  
Someone had too.

Dear John Watson wasn’t gonna do it himself.

The Holmes brother took one of the blankets, his brother stashed away in one of the cupboards situated under the bookshelfs, and draped it over the slumbering lad. Then proceeded to pick the needles up and store them away, hopefully they’d stay out of Watson’s grasp for a little while.

They were having the place monitored again. He’d need a medical team if he took higher dosages than he already did that, so he had a few doctors stay near 221B, for the eventual happenings.

He had all the perimeter secured, and was keeping an eye on him. If he ran somewhere he’d have people ready. His teams and himself were ready for the worst.

The government stood for a minute thinking before deciding to take a picture of the sleeping Watson and send it to his brother.

[He’s safe for now. If anything happens I’ll keep you updated.

-MH]

In the corner on his eye he spotted a letter, it was recently added as the dust hadn’t covered it yet like the others on the table.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Authors note:

 

This is a first for me, I’ve never written any fanfic before really. I just had this idea and went with it, I’d love to here some feedback! And don’t be to harsh ;w; it’s not anything serious.

but If you like it I can make it longer, I am working on a second chapter though ain’t sure about publishing it. If you guys like it It’d be my pleasure to continue it :3

It’s also not super long, hopefully If I continue it’ll be longer.

 


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